


The mug

by Internetmeep



Series: Days leading up to Christmas [3]
Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-03
Updated: 2016-12-03
Packaged: 2018-09-06 02:53:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8732029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Internetmeep/pseuds/Internetmeep
Summary: A Dickens style description of the infamous mug





	

**Author's Note:**

> You are very much welcome Kaitlin. Sorry it is short but it's a mug. What else is there to say?

_Mug?  What Mug? if you can't remember... **[There u go](https://66.media.tumblr.com/2624abc90bdd0a3c6932b6bdb6f0e75b/tumblr_nz2npy5xaL1qllhdno1_500.gif)**_

The mug appeared, at original, observation, to be that of bambi, yet no so like bambi as of a reindeer. Yet, upon further inspection, it was apparent that it is actually a object used to set the scene where a fish that is fortunately named the only true way to describe the weird and wonderful creature whose home, was deep under the glistening blue ocean. Yes this chinaware could really only be compared to a blobfish.

Blobfish, such a peculiar name, yet not one undeserving, for the animal is certainly a blob, but such an onomatopea seems to undermine the sheer natural beauty of the ecological system that such a blobfish is a part of. Science is one of the greatest phenomenons of this time and to have so many weird and wonderful creatures is a spectacular luxury.

Blobfish are indeed weird, yet not as weird as the chinaware that was currently held in the hands of the man in front of him. No, this was way weirder than any other mug that was high in the cupboard, patiently waiting to be filled with a warm liquid. If they were lucky, which today, this one was not, filled with a light fluffy ball of powdered snow freshly settled on the pavement of the cold, narrow streets. Unlucky today, because, fast as he may be, that does not make him any more likely to remember any of the necessary ingredients in making this fur coloured, luxury tasting, warm liquid, perfect for a cold winters eve.

Who owned this terrifying excuse for a mug was something that the winter loving criminal did not know the answer to. He was a criminal yet somehow a sense of goodwill shone through, almost as if he was a thief because he had no choice living in the slum areas of the city and so is only doing what he does to survive. What he did know was that it peered at him with wide eyes, so wide that it was almost as if the mug found its bed of plywood as a jail bed and the owner, the owner a guard, locking it in the cupboard for a crime that the mug didn't even know existed.

It's ears, jagged and uneven with a hint of lighter paint, we're probably the most normale part of the mug. mouth, tiny and triangular and holding the only piece of colour, a nice contrast to the murky browns and dim creams that encompassed it. the cheeks circular and bulbous attempting to bring a sense of adorableness to the china.

But the most disturbing part, the mug was simply a head, as if a decapitated section containing the brain and most of the sensory organs of the deer is somehow a comforting and worthy symbol for which somebody has the pleasure of drinking unnecessarily warm liquids from, without even having the light fluffy balls of powdered snow. Something that seemed unjust and immoral. But it seemed that the fastest man on earth, a completely science fiction type person was to busy fighting Singh in his lab or running around fighting people that happened to be faster than him was more important than shopping for marshmallows for Len's hot chocolate.

It was kinda disappointing. 


End file.
